Soldier Boy

I know you want to fight, A jab and curl.

I know that beneath your skin, The palate of cells clustering closer for coolness.

Passion burns your tendons, Thick rope that has caught fire.

Causing your arms and legs, Sculpted, tanned appendages.

To fall at such awkward angles, A clock whose time read 1:35:51.

Causing the rag doll, My sister and I sit in front of a wooden, toy house.

That danced throughout your mind, Oh, such a beautiful place. 

Steadily, to Tchaikovsky's "Waltz of the Flowers" , Ballerinas dance throughout The Nutcracker, leap, spin, spin, spin, leap, land.

To stumble in step for just a moment, Scrapped knees, stubbed toes, raw palms.

But pick it back up, Piano after so many years, soft ivory caressing fingers, kisses between elephant tusk and skin.

Without missing a beat, Debussy on a full moon, writing the ode of a century.

And this imaginary doll, Your Raggedy Ann. That is depicting your aberration, Broken joints, alien life, soft smiles, and open hearts alike.

Somehow wishes that they could be more normal, Fall too quickly, or love too openly?

And that same metaphoric doll, Your Raggedy Ann.

Somehow causes my own heart, Small, cold, slow beating.

To long for the ability of such pureness, Open mind  and open heart are the only two requirements, I am a pricked a finger over snow.

To fall with such grace, The ballet filled with ballerinas.

To be so good,  The color white is all that comes to mind.

To be able to turn something so lifeless, Raggedy Ann.

Such as a spineless, stuffed creature, Raggedy Ann.

Into something unassailable, Your beautiful version of Raggedy Ann.

But I am no saint, No, see St. Jude, St. Joseph, St. Patrick.

I am not you, Cold days at the lake or river when "you" comes to mind.

I am not the embodiment, My mother.

Of this metaphorical rag doll, The ghost who wafts above my head at night, giving me  gentle dreams.

Who is strong and dances, Ballerina perhaps, one who can arabesque and pirouette. 

And creates their own spine, Trust fund baby, making their own wealth without the help or aid of borrowed money.

I am a just a normal rag doll, Raggedy Ann with her red hair, pale skin, and rosy cheeks.

Who is easily manipulated, Clay fit for any potter, Play Dough for every Pre-K prodigy.  

Who falls into painful angles, Could there be an opposite of  a Pythagorean triple? Perhaps line segments who aren't quite 180. 

Without a hint of grace, A Godless world, filled with hopeless beings.

Undeserving of such white, Untouched snow.

Your grace, Falling has never looked so painless.

Makes even the raggediest of dolls, Ann.

Seem full of  something more, A child's piggy bank filled with small but precious treasures.

But you somehow don't see this light, A man who wears sunglasses on the day of an Eclipse.

You want to fight, Break a sweat or two.

And swing your arms wildly, Blue Jays starting their descent, down, down, down, to steal the lovely Blue Birds nest and eggs. 

And get that hair of yours all messed up, The Spanish room and Cafeteria on the day when I was sick. 

But if you just breathe, In.. out... in.. out... in.. out... repetition for certainty.

And take a moment to think, Tock to now read 1:35:52.

Then you'll see, Don't sit that close to the T.V., don't stare at the sun, don't read in the dark.

There's nothing to fight for yet, A jab and curl, both in vain.  ​

So, A needle pulling thread. 

Soldier boy, My love. ​ Don't fight too hard, Break a sweat or two.

Or soon you won't have anything left feeding your fire, Oxygen, heat, fuel.

And I want your spark to grow, Sparklers that write our names on hot Fourth of July's, surrounded by a glowing, disappearing heart. 

Oh, just to see a forest fire of yourself, Redwoods that meet the ground covered in ferns.

Left to burn me up, Cut pine fills my nose, as the logs waste away.

To set my soul on fire, Don't they call that Hell? Eternal Damnation? I don't mind.

To spark the hearth in my heart, Hephaestus and Hestia walking hand in hand.

Everything turns to ash, Day old fire pits in a campground of fear, doused down with vodka and bourbon. 

If it burns too long, Deafening sound of the repeating tick tock  of time.

Soldier boy, My love.

Don't fight too hard, Break a sweat or two.

If there's nothing needing a fight, Aphorism.